The most Brutal time, of the Year
by Hakucho
Summary: Metalocalypse story, written for a holiday contest at LJ. The band performs a Christmas concert, with unexpected results.


Original lyrics to 'Santa Claus is coming to town' and 'Silent Night' belong to the public domain. Dethklok and the klokateers belong to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha.

Use of censored swearing, save for the song, is to create a parallel between the guitar riffs used in the show. But if you still feel the need to spork, please do so gently.

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There was, both literally and figuratively speaking, a heavy chill in the air.

Literally speaking; because of the icy, winter weather that had already settled during the past few weeks. The area was covered by about six inches of snow, which continued to fall slowly with curving motion towards the ground. It had also covered other surfaces, like the shoulders of woolen coats, the tops of tree branches and the roofs of coach buses.

Figuratively speaking; because of the impending tension which had lain in the atmosphere. Among the shivering masses that had ventured out into the city at this time of night, there was hunger and pain to be found as they moaned for want of sustenance and warmth, and illness to be seen as their lungs shook with each hard, hacking cough from fever and bronchitis.

Nonetheless, it didn't remove their sense of obligation, to come out on this one night into the streets in whatever warm clothing they could find. Whatever discomforts or obstacles they encountered, they had no other option than to suffer through it even if the consequences were to prove dire. They had promised their lives in exchange for this one night, should anything ill befall them, and thus they were contracted to stick to that promise. There was no turning back, and the masses knew it well. But they also knew that, in spite of the harsh conditions that they endured, and the possibility that they might not return in one piece; that it wasn't all for nothing.

It was a night that they'd been waiting for, since a long time coming. One that they could only dare to dream about, while having to face the stark reality that it wasn't going to happen until now. This was the special time that they had anticipated for so long, and their dreams were going to be fulfilled.

And as an extra bonus, the front man was going to wear a santa suit.

Perhaps because, aside from the obvious answer that 'It's Christmas Eve', he had already fit the bill for someone who was big and fat. This, in addition to the concert deal obligations, was more than enough reason for the band to dress up for the audience of children and young teens. Even if their own feelings about this were far from mutual, before they walked out on stage.

"This idea is dildoes; can'ts they sees I am too talls to be an elfs?"

"Hey; it's for the kids. They like that kind of cute, adorable crap."

"Elfs are _nots_ cute!" yelled the terrified, second-fastest guitarist, who was ironically also dressed up in an elf costume. The similarly-clad, red dreadlocked drummer looked at him with a raised eyebrow, while the hapless young man trembled in his buckled shoes.

"Uh...what?"

"Elfs are nots cute! **Fck**, no! They are evils, little fckers, that waits until yous are asleeps to kills you." The tall, fastest lead guitarist looked at him, with a clear lack of amusement on his face, and shook his blonde head.

"Toki-"

"No, Skwisgaar; don'ts you starts fckings interrupt me! When yous are asleeps, the elfs come outs under the moons, and creeps up to your beds – " at this point, the drummer had to intervene.

"Uh, wait. Wait; I'm sorry to cut in the middle of your story there, Toki, but the elves are in the North Pole, with Santa – "

"Julenissen."

"Julie what now?"

"Julenissen; the _julenissen_. He is a spirits that takes the forms of a kinds, olds man, and appears every years on December 24th to brings gifts to all the goods children."

"Anyways, if the elves are in the North Pole, all the way up there, then how could they come to your bed, which is…well, no where near, the North Pole. Unless you already live there."

"They gets the Boeings 747 on the Virgins Atlantic airways. They gives goods first class discounts for Christsmas trips and New Years; no problem!"

"Ohhh…that actually makes sense. Continue."

"And thens, when yous are asleeps, the elfs creeps to your beds, under the moons, and drinks your bloods." He went on, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to control his fearful shaking. "And you knows what they do's with the blood lefts over, and your half-lifeless bodies? They carries yous over backs to the Norths Pole, to the julenissen's grotto."

"Hold on a sec – they attack you in your home, drink most of your blood, and then carry your half-dead body all the way back to Julie…ness – 'cuse me, _Santa's_ grotto? I mean, it sounds really awesome, but what would ol' Saint Nick want with a half-dead body?"

"Oh, he first judges if yous been bads or goods. If you're goods, he lets you go..."

"Ah, there we go. See? Santa doesn't hurt anyone – "

"But if yous been bads, he **tears** yous; limb from limb! And then the elfs takes your lefts over bloods and bones, to make Christs-mas candy canes! Don'ts eats the candy canes – they're mades from **people**! Candy canes are mades from **people**!" Suddenly, a blood-curdling shriek tore into the air. One that was loud enough to shatter crystal and cause the awaiting audience to hear it as well, before eagerly screaming back in response.

The lead guitarist and the drummer looked down at a traumatised Toki, who was by now lying on the floor with his eyes wide open, and trembling violently in a feutal position.

"Whoa…you Scandinavians have the most metal legends, _ever_."

"This is nots Scandinavian legend. This is severes diabee-tic relap, that he is startings to haves. And the plots of some sci-fi movie."

"Oh, crap. Somebody bring his insulin. Hurry!"

"Bullsht. Everyone knows that elvesh aren't real." Replied the bass guitarist, as he sat in his dressing chair with a pair of fake antlers being tied to his head, from underneath his chin.

"See? Murda-face is rights. There is no suchs things as elfs. You can'ts be hurts by somethings that is nots reals!"

"T-t-then **whats**, abouts the ones…at the mall?" The second-fastest guitarist stammered, in part due to the effect of the insulin being injected into his stomach by one of the klokateers.

"Oh, those aren't elvesh. They're actually jusht random dwarvesh and kids forced into coschtumes, by the shick, twishted weirdo who playsh Schanta for his dirty, shex fantashies when the mall's closed!" This immediately caught the attention of the fastest guitarist, the second-fastest guitarist and the drummer, as they each stared at him with shocked expressions.

"Okay, the first part of that kinda makes sense, but for sex fantasies? C'mon!"

"Pickle is rights. That's a ludracri-us way of lookings at the shoppings mall Santa."

"Julenissen!" corrected Toki.

"Whatevers."

"Gawd; isn't it obvioush?" Murderface let out an exasperated sigh. After his large, red nose was fitted on and the belled collar that was part of his outfit had been placed around his neck, he turned around to continue talking to his band mates. "Look at 'em! Only a shex offender would wanna be shurrounded by a bunch of dumb kids and pussies in gimpy, little outfits…"

"I thought you said _dwarves_--" interjected Pickles.

"**Pussy dwarvesh!**" came the sudden response, followed by accompanying hand gestures to emphasise his point. (It had been agreed that Murderface would have holes cut out under the hooves of his reindeer get-up, in order to use his instrument in the concert. Unfortunately, since the costume didn't come with a zipper, it meant that he was restricted to only using his fingers, which may have had made him more aggravated than usual at this time.)

"Sheesh; what are you, _blind_?" He yelled, staring at each of them with what seemed to be more irritated frustration and contempt, than usual. "The only eksch-planation, behind why you see elvesh at the mall, in such gimpy little clothesh, is because Schanta Claush is a cck-shucking, ass-raping, **peeda-phile**! And a nympha-maniac pervert."

"That is dildoes; Santa is nots a pea-dil-phile." Dismissed Skwisgaar, after rolling his eyes at such apparent nonsense.

"Yeah…when you thinks about its; at the malls, he lets yous sits on his laps for frees and don't expects nothings." mused the second-fastest guitarist, who appeared to have gotten over his previous hysteria. "Except whats yous wants for Christsmas, and ifs yous beens a very bad, _bad_ boy."

"I resht my case."

"Alright, I'm ready." The band's front man, Nathan Explosion had arrived, just at this point of the conversation, wearing the familiar red and white hat and suit and a false, white beard with moustache. He glanced at the rest of the group, who each glared back at him strong enough to freeze even the hardest of serial killers in their tracks.

"Um, do you think I'll get any kids…wanting to sit on my lap, tonight?"

Outside amidst the snow, the audience of children and young teenagers were becoming more and more restless by the minute.

If anything was left on earth to make them re-value the true meaning and importance of Christmas, in a landscape rapidly becoming more commercialized and emotionally and culturally distant; this concert was it. As young individuals who spent the majority of their lives in an orphanage, there was nothing left for them but the repetitive cycle of boredom. The institution itself was run by a staff with rather shaky methods of installing discipline and good behaviour through negligence and an over-reliance on rule books (which were always left to gather up dust on the children's shelves). Also, the one source of companionship and nurturing that the youths were able to trust in, the mainstream popular media, had tended to betray them with uninspiring advertising, formulaic programming and lurid yet now considerably bland eye candy.

They may have all been under fifteen years of age, and less well-educated by comparison to other kids, but they weren't dumb enough to live with these conditions and still be happy. They were still young, though (unfortunately) alive, and needed something to turn to in order to break away from the mundane system of normality. Even though they helped in setting it up for themselves, through hours of constant television and reading tabloid magazines.

As orphans, who had each been looked over for adoption at least five times already, there was nothing left that could meet this apparent need in a meaningful and enlightening way. Except for the options of group suicide that involved the orphanage staff, or going to a Dethklok concert on Christmas Eve. And group suicide was actually the plan 'b' route, if the staff didn't listen and write numerous letters to Mordhaus to arrange the latter. The irony, of course, was that either option eventually led to their deaths, not that they had really cared.

All that really mattered right now was that the show was about to begin; and that was all they wanted.

The black, tattered reindeer-hide curtains which separated the main attraction from the audience slowly moved away, to reveal a giant stage lain out to resemble a deserted village, with broken toys and skeletons spread out against its snow-covered floor.

The crowd fell into heavy applause. The ground lights flashed on to illuminate their idols, respectively dressed to resemble Santa Claus, his three helpers and Rudolph.

"Sheesh; would you look at all these kids, tonight?" whispered Murderface, as his eyes scanned over the children at the front of the stage.

"They are so youngs, with their futures aheads of them." marvelled Skwisgaar, thoughtfully.

"Yes, so youngs, and so fulls of promise. Such is the fresh faces of eager youth…" Toki let out a wistful sigh, in response to the lead guitarist's observation.

"They haves the power to a-kieves muchs, in this crazy woirld. But they are so alones, with no ones to leads them."

"No one to tells them rights from wrongs!"

"No ones, to calls…'family'."

"Lucky bastids." grumbled Pickles.

As the applause died down, the bass guitarist began to strum his fingers against the strings of his black Gibson Thunderbird. Following the drummer's steady opening, the front man then started the first verse of the night, (re)written especially for the show:

"_He sees you, when you are sleeping  
He knows when you're awake  
He knows if you've been good -_

_So be good, for_ FUCKING_sake!_"

At this point, the lead guitarist and the second-fastest guitarist then entered to the music; pushing the rhythm back and forth between static pauses and rapid bursts.

"_You better watch_ out  
_You better not_ cry  
_You better not_ breathe

_I'm telling you_ why:

_Santa...Claus...is coming  
Santa...Claus...is coming  
Santa...Claus is_ coming--

_and he will hunt you_ down!"

The audience let out a cheer in unison, to the words offered to them from the podium. For the first time, they began to each feel a rush of excitement flow through their bodies…a firing of energy, which they had never experienced before. It was so…rejuvenating, to their senses. As if they had finally awakened from a desensitized slumber, and were given the chance to realize their true calling in this life.

It was all so new, and so magical.

It was all so…metal.

"_He sees you, when you are_ sleeping  
_He knows when you're_ awake  
_He knows how much_ rope_ he needs, and  
how many _bullets_, the body _takes.

_From inside his grotto, he plots -  
Where to send the coals?  
He's going to set the fires  
From 'burning flesh', to 'tearing souls'._

_You better watch_ out  
_You better not _cry  
_You better not _breathe

_I'm telling you_ why:

_Santa...Claus...is coming  
Santa...Claus...is coming  
Santa...Claus is_ coming--

_and he will _hunt _you_ **down**!"

Suddenly, the children and young teenagers did another thing they hadn't really done before – they were using their heads. Literally; as they pumped up and down in the air, with frenzied motion and enthusiasm.

"_You better watch_ out  
_You better not_ cry  
_You better not_ breathe.

_Santa...Claus...is coming_- "

The music rapidly grew louder and the young spectators gave in to the adrenaline rush that came with each head bang. They had never felt so alive before, and happy about it.

"_Santa...Claus...is_ coming-"

With each energetic thrust, the blood began to rush to their faces and cause the heat to run faster to their skins.

For some un-scientific reason, the crowd's eyes had recently taken on a deep, burning glow.

"_Santa...Claus is_ coming--

_and he will_ fucking shoot _you_ **down**!"

When Nathan had next looked down at the audience, they were no where to be seen. Although he never cared for the fans, it was still a concern that the mass of orphans that Dethklok were exclusively playing for had disappeared. It was _such _a concern, that he found himself stopping before the song even reached its end, and looked around for them.

"Hey…where're the kids?"

It wasn't until the klokateers who worked the lighting later moved the stage lights around, that he got an answer to his question.

In their places, below the arena from which the band were performing; stood a succession of small, naked gremlins. Their eyes burned red and brimmed forth with boiling blood, while their elongated fingers curled out into pointed, writhing claws. The monsters hissed violently when they gazed up at the musicians and, one by one, proceeded to advance towards the raised platform.

"Holy fck! Evils, little **fckers**!" screamed the second-fastest guitarist. He immediately threw down his Gibson flying V guitar and ran away from the stage; leaping to the ground (somehow without breaking any bones) to make his escape.

"Toki! Gets back here; you pathetics **wimps**!" shouted Skwisgaar, as the audience of formerly human orphans crept closer, step by step towards the podium.

"Screw you guys; I wanna lives!"

"I'll be seeings you in the freezings pits of Hel, yous bastard!" He yelled, shaking his fist at his fleeing band mate.

"Uh, the 'burning' pits of Hell." Corrected Nathan, who had by now already pulled the false beard away from his face

"The freezings burns of Hel!"

"…You can't get freezer burn, in Hell. Can you?" The large front man asked, looking at the other band members remaining on the stage.

"…Maybe?"

"Well, the devil probably needs a freezer, now and then. I mean, because of the heat, right?" shrugged Pickles.

"Yeah; he probably…he probably needs some ice for some lemonade, or something…when it gets too hot, in Hell."

"That might be it…yeah."

It took five more minutes of this conversation, for them to finally realise that the recent threat of gremlins was no where to be seen. It was only after the air-piercing screams had torn into the night; that their previous fears of being attacked had finally passed over.

Though it was possible they were forgetting something, or someone.

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He ran as fast as his tired legs could carry him, through the wintery wasteland. How far away was he, from the monsters that were chasing him? About a mile away, from them? A mile and a half? His heart pounded harder in his chest, as he persistently summoned as much strength as he had left in his weary body, to continue on escaping to safety.

His mouth became dry, with each gasp made for air as he ran; fighting against the cold, frigid weather that threatened to slow him down. _I can'ts stops, now!_ He reminded himself, trying desperately to encourage his feet not to fail him. The buckled shoes that he was contracted to wear, were hurting his soles, and the striped tights that stretched over his calves were becoming wet, after each near-stumble into the snow.

"I **can'ts** stops, now!" the man shouted, almost breaking into a frustrated sob. The cold had continued to climb up his body; starting with the numbness in his feet, before reaching over to his hands, though gloved as they were.

Behind him, rose the growls of his pursuers. Their thin fingers dropped down to the ground, to help push their bodies along forward. By the smell of blood quickly reaching his nostrils, he could estimate that they were nearly gaining up on him.

Unable to stand up on his feet for any longer, the soon-to-be victim found that his legs had finally given way to tremendous exhaustion. In spite of himself, he collapsed down on his knees, into the snowy clearing.

_No._ He panicked. _No, yous won'ts takes me alives. You won'ts be takings me alives!_

"Yous won'ts be touching a hairs on me, you uglies, little **sons of bitches**!" He yelled out in vain, to his attackers.

"Mmm…" one of the creatures drew its weathered, reptilian face nearer to him; so much so, that he could feel its hot, foul breath on his skin.

_Is this how I'm to goes, from this worlds?_ He wept, inside of his heart. _Is this…my destiny?_

"Mmm…murrrrr…"

Shutting his eyes tight and holding his hands in front of his face, the soon-to-be victim turned his head away from the small, horrible being that had fixed its glare onto him.

"Murree Krissh-mish, Thooo-khii!!"

_What?_ Slowly opening his eyes again, he peeped out cautiously from behind his hands at the small beast who had just spoken to him. Looking around himself, he saw that the things that had been chasing him were all shuffling towards him. It seemed that he could see expressions of awe and adoration, on their hideous features.

"We la..lab ouuu, Tooo-khi!" A tiny, pink gremlin purred, while she stretched out her arms and wrapped them over his neck.

"Muree Khrist-mass, Too-kee."

"Aaaaa-aan a hebbee niii, niuu yeaah!" crooned at least five of the gremlins, in unison. As if on cue, he watched as each one of the little demons held out their hands and linked them into a circle around him. One by one, they swayed gently from side to side, while fresh snow continued to fall down gracefully.

Lying on his back, Toki didn't move a muscle, when the creatures started to sing. Not because he was still petrified of them, but because, as much as he wouldn't have wanted to admit it right then; their voices had become soothing to his ears.

"So **this** is whats they wants…" he said to himself. "They only wants to shares the holidays spirit, not tears me aparts, limbs from limbs!"

Gone were the previous expressions that he thought to be of rabid hunger and malice (as cool though, as they would have been on hindsight). Gone were the feelings of fear, and anger, that he had experienced only seconds ago.

"_Siiii-lint naight.  
Hooo-lee naight._

_Aaaall is kaalm  
Aaaall is braight_."

The blood was still boiling and running down their faces, and they were still hunched and naked. Their hands were still longer than that of the average human and his own body was falling numb from the icy temperatures. But the second-fastest guitarist realized that he wouldn't have traded anything, for this moment of peace.

He listened to their voices, so soft and serene, and thought that he felt a smile form across his half-frozen face.

"…_Sleeep in Heffenly peaaace.  
Sleeep in He-effenly peace._"

"M-merry Christsmas; you evils, little f-fckers." Toki whispered lovingly, while the gremlins stayed in their circle around his fallen body.

"Merry Christsmas, and a happy, happy new years."


End file.
